


TTC

by Saucery



Series: The Sterek Porn Collection [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable, Affection, Aftercare, Afterglow, Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Breeding, Caretaking, Children, Committed Relationship, Dirty Talk, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Feels, Fertility Issues, Ficlet, Fluff, Gentle Derek, Gentleness, Hand Jobs, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, Love, M/M, Marathon Sex, Marriage, Married Couple, Married Life, Mates, Mating, Nipples, Nursing Kink, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse, One Shot, Orgasm, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Pregnancy, Protectiveness, Romance, Sarcasm, Sassy, Sexual Fantasy, Short, Size Kink, Slice of Life, Smut, Snark, Sweet Derek, Sweet/Hot, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Trying To Conceive, Trying To Have Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek are a couple trying to conceive. Of course, this means lots and lots of sex. Stiles is starting to get tired of it.</p><p>Except for how he’s not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TTC

**Author's Note:**

> The acronym “TTC” is the common vernacular for the phrase “trying to conceive,” as used on various pregnancy forums and websites.

* * *

 

Stiles’s fists were bunched in the sheets, and his face was mashed into the pillow, which was damp beneath his drooling mouth. He couldn’t seem to breathe. His eyes were watering—that’s right, watering. He wasn’t crying. He _wasn’t_.

“Giving up so soon?” Derek said, running a calming hand along Stiles’s tense spine, to the valley of Stiles’s lower back, gathering the sweat pooling there.

“Oh, fuck you,” Stiles gasped. The knot inside him swelled even further, and wet as he was, it still hurt. His eyes watered some more.

“Hm. You have it the wrong way around.”

“Fuck. You. If I’m not pregnant after this, I’ll sacrifice a goat to Satan. Perform auguries in pigeon blood. Sell my soul to a traveling demon. _Don’t move_.”

Derek grunted, trying to hold himself still. “I’m not moving.”

“Yes, you are. You keep making these little thrusts, like you figure you can sneak them past me, or something. You realize how ridiculous that is, don’t you?”

“I can’t help it. You’re clenching down on me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“You’re getting hard. I can smell it.”

“It’s just a physiological reaction to having a giant fucking battering ram jammed against my prostate. ’S like flooring the accelerator.” When Derek attempted to reach around him, Stiles hissed: “Touch my dick and die.”

“I could get you off again before the next round.”

“I could shave your eyebrows while you sleep.” Stiles paused, considering. “Always wanted to do that.”

“Stiles.” Derek’s thumb circled the rim of Stiles’s hole where it stretched around his knot, maddeningly gentle. Stiles felt himself responding to that gentleness, like he invariably did, growing even wetter, dripping butter-hot on the outside and going butter-soft on the inside. “Ah, fuck.”

“D-don’t,” Stiles said, “don’t move, Derek, please—”

“I won’t,” Derek promised, “I won’t,” but he sounded wrecked. Ruined. Unsteady. When he leaned over Stiles to bite lightly at Stiles’s nape, Stiles shuddered, unintentionally squeezing down on the knot within him. It was the worst mistake ever.

“Ow,” he said shakily, as agonizing lightning sizzled up his nerves. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“Sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize. Kiss me.”

“Okay.” Derek bent to kiss him as Stiles turned his head sideways on the pillow. It was awkward and clumsy and sweet, and yeah, Stiles was fully erect, now. “Anything else I can do?”

It wasn’t a sarcastic question. It didn’t even have a snarky “princess” tacked on at the end of it, like it sometimes did when Stiles was being extra demanding. No, this was Derek in Alpha mode, and unlike most others of his kind, his Alpha mindset was that of a caretaker’s, not a plunderer’s. To Derek, being an Alpha was about being tender, not domineering.

It was why Stiles had married him.

That, and his gigantic knot.

A knot that was a lot less enjoyable when Stiles was subjected to it on a nightly basis, until he was permanently sore at work, hobbling around all grimacing and sticky, and fielding the infuriatingly knowing smirks of his colleagues, not to mention the yenta-like advice of any older Omegas he ran into, who had increasingly bizarre superstitions and conception myths to offer. Such as doing it half-on, half-off the bed on a new moon.

Like Stiles hadn’t tried that, already. Or having Derek fuck him upside-down to encourage the sperm toward the womb, which had nearly led to Stiles breaking his neck. Or riding Derek reverse-cowboy. Which had been fun, actually.

“Stiles?” Derek asked anxiously, and damn it, why did he have to be so adorable? Stiles couldn’t even stay mad at him. Or at his stupid knot.

“You may bring me off,” he permitted, imperiously, and Derek’s fingers were immediately around Stiles’s cock, broad and callused, stroking Stiles just the way he liked it, loose and irregular and just this side of teasing. “While telling me what you’re gonna do to me when I do get pregnant.”

Derek groaned. “I think about you leaking milk. About your nipples darkening, going all puffy and swollen and raw, and you letting me suckle them just to ease the pressure, letting me drain them dry.”

“Jesus,” Stiles rasped, shocked when Derek’s knot pulsed inside him, and when his own prick pulsed in response, dribbling pre-come. Derek’s fingers slipped, lost their rhythm, then found it again.

“I think about you carrying my litter, my precious pups, and me having to be _careful_ with you—”

“You are careful with me.”

“Not careful enough,” Derek growled, almost angrily, like he blamed himself for every injury, every bruise, every tear Stiles shed when Derek was breeding him. “Never careful enough. Stiles...”

And Stiles came, just like that, throbbing around Derek’s knot and shooting all over the messy sheets, scrabbling weakly against them, as if against a cliff, desperate for purchase.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and held him as Stiles shook and cursed, until Stiles collapsed in a sodden, exhausted heap.

Stiles’s ass was aching even more badly after coming, as he had known it would. Why had he let Derek give him an orgasm with the knot still in him? God, Stiles was the king of dumb ideas.

“I’mma snooze,” he mumbled, cracking a yawn and rearranging himself into the boneless, spreadeagled, star-shaped sprawl that was most helpful in reducing inflammation caused by the knot. “Wake m’ up when the knot’s gone and we c’n go ’nother round.”

“All right,” Derek said, settling over Stiles’s back like the planet’s warmest, heaviest blanket, because it soothed Stiles, to be pinned under Derek’s weight.

Given how Derek sighed, low and deep, he must find it soothing, too, to have his Omega safe and protected beneath him, hidden away from the dangers of the world.

Damn, but Stiles was a lucky bastard. He’d have to show Derek his appreciation, later.

Much later. But first, Stiles needed his nap.

 

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Want updates and sneak previews? Follow me on [Tumblr](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


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